


crooked smiles

by Bekka911



Series: play me a lullaby [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ghosts, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Good Sibling Number Five | The Boy, How Do I Tag, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, I forgot how to tag for this fandom, It's all rather sad, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Someone give Klaus a hug, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, please, there are spoilers for season 2, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25869685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bekka911/pseuds/Bekka911
Summary: [ SEASON 2 SPOILERS ]They're finally back from 1963. It's fine until it's not.Klaus doesn't know what to do now that Ben's gone.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves & Siblings, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: play me a lullaby [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516385
Comments: 89
Kudos: 748





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another fic for this fandom! It takes place after season 2, so if you haven't watched it yet what are you doing with you life, go and watch it!  
> I have so many feels about season 2, ughhh.  
> Good news! This fic is going to have a second chapter, so if you would be interested in bookmarking it so you don't miss the update, that would be awesome!  
> Love you all.
> 
> Leave your thoughts in the comments!

Klaus falls onto his bed, closes his eyes, and breathes.

His 2019 room still smells like weed and stale beer, and his sheets are ruined by the sharp tang of vodka. Klaus breathes it all in and holds it in his lungs for as long as he can, shuffling through his scattered memories until he can match the smell. This is his room from before. 

“I’m 99.76% sure that there’s still drugs somewhere in this room,” he says out loud for Ben’s benefit.

Ben doesn’t say anything, because his spirit burned out in 1963 and there’s nothing left for Klaus to annoy. 

Klaus sighs and peels his eyes back open, feeling disjointed and uncomfortable. It’s not silent - it’s never silent when he’s not high as fuck - but there’s a distinct lack of bitching that sets his teeth on edge. This isn’t right. It’s not right, and it’s never going to _be_ right. Not ever again.

Ben is gone and Klaus, for the first time in a very long time, is actually, genuinely, alone. 

_“Klaus,”_ whispers the little boy beside the bed who doesn’t have the right side of his face.

Klaus’s hands twitch. Without Ben, there’s no need to hold off the drugs. There’s nobody here that’ll care if he falls off that particular bandwagon. Lord knows his siblings will simply write him off as a junkie and call it a day. There’s nobody left to disappoint. 

He hauls himself upright, sliding off the bed with a small grunt. The little boy starts crying blood as he’s ignored. Klaus simply grits his teeth and blocks the sound out. He only has to try for a little bit longer, and then once he’s tracked down a dealer, he’ll be just fine.

Something cold shudders across the back of his neck. _“Klaus,”_ pleads the woman behind him whose neck is forever branded with rope burn. 

Klaus tugs his coat around himself a little tighter, ruffles his mane of hair, and escapes into the hallway. It’s almost surreal, being back here again, in this house. After years in the 60's and the first apocalypse and _Dave_ , Klaus had almost forgotten what the hallways looked like, what the wooden walls smelled like, what the floorboards felt like under his bare feet.

He hadn’t missed this house, but something stabilises in his chest at the familiarity anyway.

He makes it all the way downstairs and almost to the foyer before he encounters someone else. Or rather, two someone elses. Mom and Diego are over by the wall, talking. They’re too close to the front door for Klaus to even hope to sneak past them.

“Klaus,” Mom greets as he gets closer. “Are you going out?”

Klaus manages a small smile, but only because it’s Mom. “Yeah,” he says a little breathlessly, moving past her slightly. He’s almost to the front door. “Just going for a walk.”

“With no shoes?” Mom sounds concerned. Klaus almost doesn’t care. 

How does he tell her that he doesn’t care about shoes, that he’s dying? Inside, he means, not physically. He’s shrivelling up and wasting away, and this walk is going to fix it, at least for a little while. “I’ll be alright,” he promises raspily. It’s all he can offer her.

Diego frowns and steps towards him. Klaus flicks his eyes to the front door desperately. He’s so close. A few more steps, and he’s _out_.

“Klaus,” Diego says knowingly. “Mom’s right. If you want to go out, I’ll go get the car.”

“No, I-”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom says over the top of Klaus, who feels the last of his hope wither away. “I would hate for you to hurt your feet while you’re out, dear.”

Diego offers his brother a tight smile before turning and disappearing back into the house. Mom claps her hands, delighted. Klaus breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth before beaming at her.

“I’ll go wait for him out the front,” he tells her brightly, waving a hand lazily. “I’d hate to hold him up. You know how he can get.”

He scrambles out the front door before she has a chance to respond. _“Klaus,”_ sighs the man with two broken arms and a gaping hole in his forehead.

The fresh air is crisp and cool, and Klaus feels it like a slap in the face. It’s winter, and Klaus experiments with exhaling in the cold, amused by the small white clouds he can make. For a moment, it’s almost like he’s smoking.

“You always used to bitch about the cold,” he says to Ben casually as he starts walking away from the Academy. “Remember that? Absolutely no tolerance for it. You’d hate to be alive for this.”

Ben says nothing because Ben isn’t there. 

Klaus keeps walking, and if he stumbles a little bit more, if his lips tremble and his hands slap at his legs, nobody is there to call him out on it. 

“I’m rather angry at you,” Klaus continues listlessly, cramming his hands in his pockets and kicking at the ground as he walks. “That whole thing you pulled with the possession was a dick move, and I’m never going to forgive you for it.” 

His body still ached. His heart ached too. He and Ben had their moments of disagreements, but the possession thing had blown past that line without second thought. There was a level of violation to it, a type of fear that Klaus is still trying to understand. 

Ben doesn’t defend himself. He can’t. He’s gone.

Klaus keeps walking, following the route by muscle memory only. To think that only a few days ago he was three years sober, no longer a junkie, and stuck in the homophobic 60's. Oh how fate must be laughing.

A car horn sounds behind him, familiar and jarring all at once. “Hey!” Diego yells. “I told you I was getting the car!”

“I should’ve run instead, then!” Klaus shouts back and then proceeds to do exactly that. Not for far, or for long because he’s never been one for sports or athletics. Diego keeps up with him anyway, because Klaus is walking down a street where there are no little side alleys.

Diego rolls the window down. “Get in the car, Klaus.”

Klaus waves a hand, his tattoos blurring out of the corner of his eyes. “Get fucked.”

“I’m not here to babysit you. Get in the car.”

“If you’re not here to babysit me, then why are you here? I was just going on a walk.”

“Get in the fucking car or I’m going to hit you with it.”

“Sheesh,” Klaus mumbles, slowing to a halt and swinging open the car door and sliding into the front seat. “You’re bossy.” The lady with a slashed-open throat that had followed him from the house roars in defeat as Diego starts driving too fast for her to keep up. Klaus winds up the window.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Diego shoots back, even as he takes his eyes off the road to run considering eyes over Klaus’s body. “You alright?”

Klaus snuggles into his coat. His long hair helps to hide his face. “Peachy keen, brother mine.” He’s not surprised when Diego snorts disbelievingly - he’d sounded flat even to his own ears. Usually, Ben tells him when he’s being a morose moron.

Ben isn’t here anymore.

To Diego’s credit, he stays silent for another ten minutes and just drives around town like he isn’t aware of why Klaus twitches and shivers beside him. They both pretend that the other isn’t aware that they _know_.

“So,” Diego says finally. “1963, huh?”

Klaus barks a horrible laugh. “Yeah,” he says bitterly. “1963. And 1962. And 1961. And 1960.”

“Shit. You were there for that long?”

“Me and Ben, slutting it around the country.”

Diego goes strangely quiet, fingers clenching around the steering wheel. His hair is pulled back into a small ponytail, so Klaus has a front row seat to the clenching of his brother’s jaw, and the bob of his throat as he swallows harshly. 

Oh, of course. Diego and Ben had had a moment together, hadn’t they? While Klaus was locked away. 

Hadn’t Diego told Ben to stay in the body? 

Klaus doesn’t want to be in the car anymore. He just wants to go home, to hug Mom, and then go to bed and not leave until the day God finally lets him die. It’s not worth doing anything else. Nobody _wants_ him to do anything else.

“Take me home, Diego,” he says. 

Diego frowns. “What? Already?”

Klaus wriggles his fingers lazily and doesn’t bother answering. Diego will take him home or he won’t. Klaus doesn’t care anymore. He’s tired. His body hurts. Cravings drag through his veins. His room has the drugs that he needs.

 _“Klaus,”_ moans the young girl who always follows Diego around. She’s missing an eye and her hands are mangled.

Klaus drops his head against the closed window and huffs. “These folks are very needy,” he mutters. “I’m glad you aren’t such a nag, Ben. Oh wait.” He waits for the scoff, or the eyeroll, or for the tell-tale chill that indicates Ben’s tried to hit him.

Nothing happens and Klaus squeezes his eyes closed.

He hadn’t expected it to be this lonely. After the possession, he’d expected to be relieved. After the possession, Klaus had almost wanted to send Ben away himself. But now Ben’s actually gone, and Klaus can feel the loneliness press in on him with such force that it’s actually kind of hard to breathe.

“Trust you to be a selfish bastard,” he murmurs. “Even at the end.”

Diego slaps the steering wheel suddenly. Klaus jumps and opens his eyes. “Who are you talking to?” Diego asks sharply. “You keep mumbling to yourself and it’s actually kind of annoying.”

“Sheesh,” says Klaus. “1963 did nothing for your temperament.”

“You watch your whore mouth, Klaus. I have knives.”

Klaus doesn’t dare look at his brother, he just presses the back of his hand over his eyes. “Just take me home, Dee. Please.”

Diego doesn’t. Diego turns into a side street that honestly looks like a place where Klaus used to go to get drugs and hits the fucking breaks hard enough that Klaus is almost jolted out of his chair. He sees a brief glimpse of a woman slamming through the windshield. 

She screams his name as he stares at the missing skin and shattered cheekbone that makes up her face. 

“This isn’t home,” he tells Diego just to be an ass, tearing his eyes away from the ghost. “Maybe 1963 messed you up more than we thought. I don’t live on the streets anymore. I live at the Academy. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Diego moves. Klaus braces for the impact, because he’s pushing and Diego’s patience is non-existent after the JFK debacle. He just wants to feel it, because he deserves it. 

“Klaus,” says Diego gently, instead.

“No,” says Klaus, clapping his hands over his ears.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want Diego to be a good brother. He just wants to go home.

Hands tug at his palms, peeling them away from his head. “Klaus,” Diego says again. “C’mon man.” There’s no impact, no punch. There’s just Diego, holding Klaus’s wrist loosely and watching him with eyes that are far too knowing and bright with grief.

 _“Klaus,”_ wails that little girl who still hasn’t left the back seat. She taps his shoulder. _“Klaus.”_

Ben used to stop them from touching him.

Klaus recoils into the door, crumpling into a little ball and ripping his arms away from Diego. “No,” he says. “Stop.”

“Woah.” Diego holds his hands up. “Klaus, hey. You good?”

Klaus laughs, wild and angry and heartbroken. “Yeah, yeah. Always.” He’s not. He can feel it piling up - the disaster with Dave, the possession, seeing Dad again, the homophobia, Allison’s agony over almost losing her husband, the cloying presence of his cult.

Ben.

Ben and his kaleidoscope of emotions and actions and feelings. Ben, who could be so condescending about how Klaus lives, the choices he makes, and then turn around and care so deeply and wholly that Klaus selfishly kept him a secret so that Ben couldn’t ever leave him for someone else.

Well, Ben left him alright. Left him in pieces. Left him in pain. Left him to suffer in his own body as his control was methodically stripped away. Left him alone in a world that he doesn’t fit into with siblings who don’t really want him.

 _“Klaus,”_ sobs the old man outside the window. He’s the most whole ghost Klaus has seen; he’s not broken, just sad.

“I want waffles,” Klaus tells Diego, still squished against the door. “Ben always liked waffles.”

Diego drops his hands slowly, like Klaus is some startled animal that might flee if there’s any sudden movements. Klaus might laugh if it was funny. “So this _is_ about Ben.”

“I’m not sure which other ghostly sibling I could be talking about, Number Two. You got anything to tell me?”

“I’m not Number Two. Not anymore.”

“Sorry. I forgot about your identity issues. Do you want me to quote Dora at you to feel more secure in your name? I always excelled at _‘Swiper, no swiping!’_ if you catch my drift.”

“Klaus.”

Klaus waves his brother off and looks back to the old man, whose alligator tears are somehow graceful. He looks lost and agonoised and heartbroken; the same three feelings that are burrowing inside Klaus’s bones and making his body their home.

“Hey,” he says quietly, rolling down the window and ignoring Diego’s noise of protest behind him. “Hey, what’s your name?”

The old man stops repeating Klaus’s name, his laboured breathing stuttering past his lips as he considers the question. He doesn’t watch Klaus like the other ghosts do. He isn’t hungry or desperate. He just looks sad.

He reaches a withered hand out to touch Klaus’s face. The young Sèance can’t help but shy away from it. “Norman,” the old man rasps miserably, retracting his hand. “I think my name is Norman.”

“Norman.” Klaus manages a small smile. “Why are you hanging around, Norman?”

Norman stares straight through Klaus. His eyes are a very similar colour to Ben’s. “They murdered me for the inheritance,” he says. “They put poison in my tea.”

Klaus nods, swallows, and then rolls up the window. The mangled girl in the backseat is still there. She’s screaming now. No syllables or enunciated sounds - just wordless shrieks of grief and pain. Klaus considers joining her.

Diego, always present but never invasive, bumps his leg with a soft fist. “Hey, tell me what you’re seeing.”

Klaus blinks down at his own thighs with burning eyes. “There are so many tragedies,” he says. “I should be like Vanya and write a book.”

Diego sighs, heavy and tired. “Whatever. Let’s just get you home.”

“But I want waffles!” Klaus protests.

Diego whips around in his seat to glare at him, slapping an open palm of the dash of the car. Klaus pushes further into the door. He can feel the chill radiating off Norman, who’s still lingering outside. “You don’t want waffles!” Diego shouts, voice scraped raw. “Damn it, Klaus, you don’t want waffles and you don’t want drugs! You just want Ben!”

“Yes, I do! What’s wrong with that?”

“Why do you get to mourn him?” Diego presses closer, mouth twisting into a vicious sneer. “We all went years without him, and we did just fine. You were selfish, and you kept him here, and now you get to experience the same loss that we all felt. You can’t just force people to be around you, Klaus.”

Klaus didn’t force Ben to stick around, he _didn’t_! Ben had said it to Vanya who had said it to Klaus. Ben had been too scared to leave and Klaus had offered him a way to stay. Klaus hadn’t done anything but hold his hand out.

Diego isn’t finished. “You kept him around, and then you kept him to yourself. As if it wasn’t bad enough that we’d already lost him every other way. And the time jump? When you said he hadn’t made it back with us and he had? There was a reason I told him to stay in your body, Klaus!”

 _“Klaus,”_ sighs Norman before he fades away completely. The girl screams louder.

Klaus scrabbles for the door handle, falling out of the car in a heap. It’s cold and he’s only wearing pants and a singlet, but he can’t find it in himself to care as he stumbles away from Diego’s car. His brother doesn’t shout after him, doesn’t give chase.

Klaus runs away again, on his own, and this time he thinks that he won’t go back.

This time he thinks he might not make it much farther.

The ghosts around him don’t follow, but there are so any of them lining the streets that Klaus can’t escape them all anyway. They sink into his skin as he hurries past, cry his name with the futile hope that he can help them. He can’t. He can’t help them. Just like he couldn’t help Ben.

Ben, who hadn’t been forced to stay, who’d _wanted_ to stay. Ben, who had seen Klaus at his best and his worst. Ben, who should’ve been able to talk to his siblings, to hug them, if only Klaus hadn’t been so afraid.

If only Klaus hadn’t been a junkie. If only Klaus had pulled himself together. If only Klaus had seen _his_ Dave one last time. If only Klaus had been _anybody else_.

Klaus isn’t one for crying, but he swipes at his face anyway as he skillfully navigates the roads until he slows to a walk in a familiar alley. He’d spent a lot of nights sleeping here before Reginald had died. 

“This is your fault,” he says to Ben. “This is all your fault. I hope you’re happy with yourself, you useless prick.”

It’s not Ben’s fault, and Klaus knows that. It’s just easier to blame someone who isn’t there to defend themselves.

Instinctively, his feet stop at his old huddle spot, packed tight into the space between a dumpster and the cold brick wall. It’s clear that other people have used it over the time he’s been gone, but there’s nobody there now, so he lets himself sink to the ground. He cushions his head against the unforgiving bricks.

He’s not going back to Diego. And he doesn’t want to go back to the Academy. He wants.... 

Diego had been right. Klaus just wants Ben.

His phone, old and battered as it is, vibrates against his hip. He’d grabbed it on a whim before trying to escape the Academy and shoved it down the waistband of his pants. He’s glad for it now. It’s gonna let him get this one last thing in order.

Surprisingly, it’s Allison’s name that stares back at him, so Klaus answers it. “My dearest, sweetest sister whom I love the most in the world,” he greets with a brightness he doesn’t feel.

“Klaus,” Allison exhales, but there’s a smile in her voice. “Just checking in. Are you and Diego heading back any time soon? Mom wants to know about dinner plans.”

Mom. 

Klaus feels an unexpected pang in his chest. He hadn’t let himself think about Mom, who’d lost a child and her husband and an old friend. How would she react if he didn’t come home? Would she care? Would her programming force her to move on without mourning him?

“Klaus?”

“Right, of course, of course.” Klaus thumps his head on the wall once. “Well, Diego and I aren’t together anymore, so I can’t speak for us both, but I know that I won’t be home tonight.”

 _“Klaus,”_ whispers the voice of Ben, but when Klaus looks, Ben isn’t there to be seen.

God doesn’t like him, Klaus knows that, but he’s done. He’d saved the world. Twice, really. He’s lost enough, and he’s gained nothing. So she’s going to accept him or he’s going to fuck her up. There isn’t really a choice for her.

Allison is still on the other end of the call. “What do you mean you two aren’t together? Where’s Diego?”

Klaus’s laugh is splintered and ugly. “He delivered me to my destination and then fucked right back off again. He’s my driver, not my babysitter.”

“That’s not what I-”

“I gotta go in a sec, Ally, but I just gotta tell you something first.” Klaus rubs the back of his hand over his forehead, _goodbye_ flashing the sky. He inhales deeply. “Remember that rose jumper you lost? The one you adored more than life itself?”

“Klaus, I swear to God-”

Klaus chokes on his hysterical giggle. “It’s in the back of my wardrobe. Under one of Diego’s hoodies. Actually, there’s a fuckton of clothes in there that aren’t mine if you wanna give them back to everyone.”

“Klaus-”

“Oh, and I’m pretty sure there’s some drugs stashed in there too if you want to have some fun with Luther.”

“Klau-”

“Bye Allison. Love you.”

Klaus hangs up before his sister can hear his tears and then he throws his phone at the wall hard enough for it to shatter. His _goodbye_ tattoo is still pointed at a rapidly-darkening sky. His _hello_ hand comes to rest palm-up on his knee.

He should go and get something else inked on him. Something that Ben would’ve loathed. Something like a cartoon ghost with octopus legs. Klaus grins. “You would hate that,” he says out loud, snuffling an inhale. “Maybe you’d hate it enough to come back.”

Ben doesn’t answer him. Norman does.

The old spirit appears gradually, slow and unhurried. He flickers, and his presence is a little less tangible than before, but he’s there and Klaus isn’t entirely alone anymore.

“Klaus,” says Norman.

“Norman,” says Klaus.

Norman smiles sadly. “Lonely Klaus.” 

Klaus shakes his head and tucks his body into a small ball. His warmth is fading, chased off by the harsh winter air and the ever-present chill of death. Norman’s existence is guaranteeing that Klaus won’t be warm again tonight.

“He’s gone, Norman,” Klaus says tiredly, burying his head in his arms. His voice comes out muffled. “He’s not coming back.”

Norman hums and sits down beside the young Sèance. He’s a ghost, but his joints creak and snap like he’s alive. “The monster boy,” he snuffles. “Your guardsman. I don’t see him anymore.”

Klaus lifts his head and frowns. “You’ve been around to see him?”

Norman suddenly looks very, very old. “My family poisoned me. Your family stops you from poisoning yourself.”

No, they don’t. Klaus can’t make himself say anything but Norman’s words make something shiver and curl up inside him, withering away under the heavy knowledge that Klaus isn’t something his family cares about. They’d chosen Ben over him. They’d spent years without each other, and then they’d let Klaus be tortured.

Nobody wants him. Diego wants to be a hero, Five wants control, Luther wants validation, Allison wants love, Vanya wants to be accepted.

Ben just wants to be alive.

And Klaus? Klaus wants Ben back. Klaus wants Dave. Klaus wants the angry ghosts to go away. Klaus wants to feel better. Klaus just wants to be okay, and to have someone give a damn about him. Ben had. And sure it might not have been consensual - Ben might not have had a choice - but Ben had cared, in his own way.

(No, Ben had been given a choice. That’s what he told Vanya to tell Klaus. That he’d had a choice and he’d chosen Klaus.)

“What are you waiting for, Norman?” He wonders out loud. “What’s keeping you around?”

Norman’s hand falls through Klaus’s leg and drains whatever warmth had been left. “They poisoned me for my inheritance.”

“I know that. Why are you staying?”

“They poisoned me.”

“Christ, you’re a fucking joy to be around.”

“That money is poisoned money.” Norman’s voice is becoming something _else_ , and his hand is still dipped beneath Klaus’s skin, stealing his life and his warmth. “They have blood on their hands. My blood. That money was my money to give, not theirs to steal. They murdered me. My own family killed me because they thought I owed them something.”

(Diego, telling Ben to stay inside Klaus’s body. Ben, refusing to regret it even as Klaus shrank away from him, violated. His siblings seeing him possessed and doing nothing about it because they wanted Ben, they didn’t want Klaus.)

Klaus is getting warm again. Norman’s hand is still in his leg. 

Klaus closes his eyes and thinks of Ben.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find Klaus. It's fine until it isn't.  
> Klaus doesn't know how to let Ben go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2!  
> Not as good as I was hoping, but it was really emotional for me to write, so I think it'll do.  
> This fic is just really sad, I'm sorry.  
> (Also I deadass just completely forgot about Luther in this entire thing, whoops)
> 
> Leave your thoughts in the comments!!

Five is aware of the common misconception his siblings have about him. That he’s cold, that he’s callous, that he’s calculating and cruel and doesn’t give a crap about the finer points of having a family. 

In part, they’re right. 

In part, they’re wrong.

Because Five is most of those things. He has to be. Any sort of softness has been charred and sharpened by the harrowing survival of the Apocalypse-that-had-been, when he’d been trapped, alone, with nobody.

But he gives a crap about his family. He cares about them in a way that he can’t show, lest someone sees that and uses it against him. 

(He tells himself that he’s lived through too much to be afraid, but there's something about the Handler and the Commission that makes his bones rattle with terror.)

So he cares. Sure, there are some of his siblings he cares about _more_ , but he cares.

“Slow down,” he tells Diego over the phone. “If you want me to help, I have to actually understand you.”

Diego swears and Five hears the familiar sound of a car swerving on the road. “I don’t have the fucking _time_ , Five! Klaus is gone-” He’s cut off by a car horn. Five waits, but Diego doesn’t continue talking.

“Gone where?”

“I don’t know, he’s just fucking _gone_.”

Five pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s Klaus. He’s always gone.”

Diego’s voice drops lower, simmering with guilt. “Not like this.” The quick flick of an indicator.

Five considers what that means. 

Klaus disappears because he’s in pain. Klaus disappears because he can’t stand being around a family that has too many remnants of Reginald, in a house with too many ghosts. Klaus disappears because if he doesn’t he might kill himself.

Klaus disappears because people don’t know how to talk to him without hurting him.

“Diego,” Five says thinly. “What did you say to him?”

Diego’s answer is quiet, almost overpowered by the sounds around him. “It was about Ben.”

“What the fuck, Diego?”

“I know, I know!”

Five spends a few moments considering the pros and cons of abandoning his family in this timeline and simply disappearing and starting a new life somewhere far away from the Academy. 

He lets out a long breath. “Okay. I heard Allison on the phone to him earlier, so he’s still alive. Finding him will depend on how many triggers you hit.”

Diego shouts an emphatic _“fuck you!”_ on his end of the line. There’s the sound of tires squealing. Five calmly stands up and starts walking towards the door, his free hand stuffed casually in his pocket. 

“Alright,” says Diego once he’s got his situation under control. “I’ve checked out most of his regular haunts, and he’s not there. I need you to check the top of town - there’s an old huddle spot of his in the alley behind Betson’s. He used to go there to lay low if he was injured and didn’t want to be found. I’ll meet you there once I’ve checked a few other places”

Five doesn’t complain. “Okay,” he says, and then hangs up. 

He’s just clicked open the front door when there are two sets of footsteps behind him, familiar and yet threatening in their loudness. Five stops but doesn’t turn around.

“Five,” says Vanya.

“Five,” says Allison. “Where are you going? Mom’s about to start dinner.”

Five still doesn’t turn to face them, but he keeps his voice light. Vanya doesn’t need that kind of stress on her shoulders. “Diego lost something. I’m going out to help him find it.”

A hand gently touches his shoulder. Five tenses. Allison doesn’t pull away. “Is it Klaus?” She asks tightly, and Five lets his hand fall away from the door handle. “Is that who you’re trying to find?”

“Klaus?” Vanya repeats, sounding a smidge more alarmed. “Why are you looking for Klaus?”

“I told you.” Five turns around, shakes off Allison’s hand, and gently grabs Vanya’s wrist in a loose hold. “Diego misplaced him. I’m just going out to bring them both home.”

Vanya doesn’t smile and she doesn’t relax. “You’re worried.”

“Yes,” Five says, because he’s never really been able to lie to Vanya. “I’m worried.”

“Vanya, let him go.” Allison’s voice is slightly strangled, and Five glances over at her, even as he lets go of Vanya. Allison holds his gaze with wide, worried eyes. “If Five is looking for Klaus, then he has to go _now_.”

“Why?” Vanya sounds frightened.

Five answers for Allison, because he can read the memory of her call with Klaus in her face. “He said goodbye,” he tells Vanya. “He doesn’t think he’ll make it home.”

He’s enveloped in a flash of blue a mere second before the picture frame on the wall splinters and glass litters the wooden floor; Vanya’s power is nothing more than a grieving ripple of twisted melody as she mourns for a brother that’s always had one hand clasped firmly around Death’s.

~

Okay, see, the thing is, Diego knows he fucked up. Klaus is always so fragile, and Diego has never been good with breakable things. He’s clumsy and he’s blunt and he’s never learned the finer points of being a good sibling.

So yes. He messed up. Because Klaus keeps going away and coming back less intact, and Diego has no idea how not to break whatever’s left.

But did it have to be Ben?

It had been okay once, when Ben was some other mass-less _thing_ that only Klaus could see, only Klaus could talk to, only Klaus could believe was their brother. It had been okay when Ben was dead to the rest of them.

But Ben was _there_. Diego had hugged him, talked to him. Diego had told him to _stay_ , and then Klaus had let him go anyway.

(Klaus had let him go, and so Ben had gone, and Klaus had come back with one less piece to him.)

Diego hits the steering wheel as hard as he can, letting out a wordless shout. Klaus is fucking _gone_ , because Diego had told Ben to _stay_ , and if ever Diego has had to choose between two of his own siblings and he chose _wrong_.

Betson’s is only a few blocks away, and Diego drives as though he isn’t afraid of death, which seems to make the other drivers around him rather angry. He doesn’t care. Klaus comes first, has always come first, and Diego has always been so afraid of walking down that goddamn alley and finding a body not a brother.

“Five will find him,” he says out loud, just to be sure. He’s not sure who’s going to hear him. He says it anyway.

Just to be sure.

Five will find him.

(Will Five find him alive?)

Betson’s is a bar that has an attached restaurant. It’s a pinnacle of Diego’s relationship with his siblings. It’s where they used to go after Five left, until one-by-one, they stopped showing up. Klaus had been the last one, sitting alone at a table for weeks at a time until even he stopped appearing.

The car skids to a stop outside of the familiar building and Diego fucking books it on foot, squinting as though it will help him see through the gloom of the nighttime light. Klaus has to be around the corner, he has to be.

If he’s not, then Diego will have lost two brothers instead of one who was never really found in the first place.

“Klaus!” He shouts. “Five!”

A flash of blue and a hand grabbing his. “You took your time,” Five says, even as he drags Diego over to what can only be Klaus curled into a ball. 

“Yeah well,” Diego says. “Traffic was terrible.”

Five rolls his eyes and drops his hand, crouching down and pushing at the body on the ground. Diego crouches next to him, and once he confirms that it’s Klaus, very gingerly takes a pulse. Klaus’s wrist is thin and cold to touch, and his pulse is sluggish to match.

Five shifts a little closer to Diego’s side. “He’s alive?”

Diego sets Klaus’s arm back down. “Just about. We gotta get him warmed up, though.” 

Five nods decisively. “I can jump him back to the Academy. You wanna tag along or do you wanna drive?”

“I’m not leaving him,” Diego says without hesitation. The car is a piece of shit anyway. Klaus is more important. Klaus has always been more important. 

Klaus, who is alive. Ben, who is not.

Five nudges Diego slightly. “I can’t carry him,” he says apologetically. “I need you to hold onto him so I can jump us all back without causing any more injuries.”

Ah, of course. Diego shuffles forward and gently tugs Klaus towards him, sweeping him up into his arms as though he doesn’t weigh a thing. 

(Klaus _doesn’t_ weigh a thing. Ben has taken that last piece, and now there is nothing left inside Klaus. Klaus who is alive, but so close to death.)

Diego stands and Five stands, and for a minute Diego wonders if the fluttering pulse he’d felt had merely been a trick, because Klaus doesn’t stir and his skin is burning cold to touch. “Five,” he says, and then can’t get the rest out.

“We’ll get him home,” promises Five, sounding horribly young. “He’ll be okay.”

Diego nods, Five grabs his arm, and they disappear in a flash of blue light.

_“Klaus,”_ says the voice on the wind, a final testament from a brother who never could bring himself to leave his family behind.

~

Klaus doesn’t meet God.

It’s kind of disappointing really, because that’s what he’d been going for. She doesn’t want him, and he doesn’t like her, but there are worse things. Besides, it’s not like she needs him to stick around on Earth for anything anymore. The Apocalypse is no more.

There’s just no room for Klaus in the world anymore. He’s not useful. 

He’s not useful and Ben is gone, so why is he here?

“Ben’s gone, Klaus,” someone murmurs, as if that’s meant to soothe him. Fingers run through his hair. “I’m so fucking sorry for what I said.”

“Ben,” Klaus slurs in response, keeping his eyes screwed shut. His body aches fiercely, but it’s a sharper pain than what he’d felt after the possession. “Please, Ben. I’m sorry. Please come back.”

“Klaus,” says the person who’s touching him.

_“Klaus,”_ says the ruined voice of the dead woman who is also touching him.

Klaus shudders and turns away. Blankets shift and fluff around him. He’s hot. It’s hot. That means that Norman’s gone too, just like Ben. Klaus can’t get anybody to stay. Klaus just wants someone to _stay_. 

Slowly, he peels his eyes open, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness. He’s in his bed, in the Academy. He’s facing the wall. Someone is behind him. The dead woman is by his feet. He’s home. They brought him home. Alive.

“Are you Diego?” He asks the wall. 

The person behind him shifts. “Yeah Klaus,” says Diego sadly. “It’s me. Is that alright? I can go if you’d like.”

“How considerate,” he says dryly, but ultimately waves a careless hand above his head. “Stay or go, I don’t care.”

It’s not true, he does care. But there’s no point in exiling Diego, for forcing him to go away just like Klaus forced Ben to go away, because Diego hasn’t done anything wrong. Klaus is just in pain and looking for a reason to let himself fall apart.

The woman at the end of bed shrieks loudly. Klaus slams his head into the wall. 

“Woah!” Diego’s hands close around his shoulders and tug him back. “Jesus, Klaus!”

Klaus rolls over and Diego’s hands follow him, refusing to lose his shoulders to the sheets. “Number Two,” Klaus says flatly. “Is there a reason you’re fondling me in bed?”

“Yes,” Diego says instantly without blinking an eye. “You nearly died, and I am terrified of losing you the same way I lost Ben.”

Oh.

Well then.

Klaus sighs. “Can’t argue with that.” And he can’t, really, because he has to remember that the others _did_ actually lose Ben. He has to remember that he can’t keep Ben all to himself, can’t hoard all the grief just because he was the only one to see him, to _live_ with him, to fight with him and to bicker with him and to be violated by him and to _love him_.

Ben is their brother too. Ben is _Diego’s_ brother too.

(Klaus is Diego’s less important brother, because Klaus didn’t die so the others can’t miss him.)

Diego gently pulls Klaus into a sitting position, so that the young Seance’s body is pressed against the wall and his legs are crossed. Klaus keeps his hands palm-up on his knees. The broken woman’s wails grow cracked and sad.

“Look,” Diego says. “I’m sorry about what I said. It wasn’t fair and I didn’t mean it-”

“You meant it,” Klaus interrupts, “and I really appreciate your apology, but I am far more interested in the fact that I’m in Allison’s rose jumper. I thought I told her to take that back?”

Diego, impossibly, gets sadder. “Yeah, Klaus, you did.”

“So why am I wearing it?”

Not that he’s complaining. He loves this jumper. He just thinks that Allison loves it more, so Allison should have it back. Maybe it’ll comfort her when she thinks about Ray. Klaus curls his fingers into the cuffs of the sleeves.

Diego doesn’t say anything for a while. He does, though, get up from his spot on the chair beside the bed and crawl across the covers until he can sit beside Klaus. Their arms brush. It’s kind of comforting, actually. “She knows what that phone call meant, Klaus,” Diego says gently.

Klaus laughs faintly. “ _I_ don’t even know what that phone call meant.”

Lie.

Diego very carefully doesn’t look at him. “It meant goodbye, Klaus, and you know that. I know you know that.”

“Listen to this guy,” Klaus says under his breath to Ben. 

“Ben’s gone, Klaus,” Diego says back, just as quietly.

And-

Okay, there’s a part of Klaus that _knows_ that. That’s always known that. Has known that since he watched Ben walk into those waves of energy with the gait of a man who isn’t afraid of dying anymore. He’d woken up again with the certainty buried deep in his hollow bones that Ben is gone and won’t ever be coming back.

But there’s something about the way Diego says it, so softly and so sadly, that makes Klaus understand that _Ben is gone._

And all of a sudden, he just...can’t.

Klaus thumps his head into the wall again and swallows. “What am I supposed to do?” He whispers, voice cracking and breaking. Pressure builds in his throat. “Diego, what do I do?”

“WWBD?” Diego whispers back, voice just as ruined. “What Would Ben Do?”

Klaus chokes out a miserable laugh, not because it’s funny, but because Ben would find it so horribly endearing, but he’s not around to hear it. So Klaus laughs and laughs, and Diego joins in until the joke isn’t a joke anymore.

They laugh until their hearts break and they can’t fight the tears anymore, and then they keep laughing, because if they don’t laugh, they’ll completely fall to pieces and their family can’t afford to keep losing siblings.

~

Somewhere, Ben laughs with them.

There are tears on his face too.


End file.
